


Origins

by Lucifuge5



Category: due South
Genre: AU, F/M, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pegging, post-cotw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-24
Updated: 2011-01-24
Packaged: 2017-10-15 01:40:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/155678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucifuge5/pseuds/Lucifuge5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Ray Vecchio, this is your (new) life.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Origins

**Author's Note:**

> Giftfic/More Joy Day!fic for Exbex.
> 
> Though nothing extreme, I'll warn for the sprinkling of angst and the dollop of kink (mild bondage, orgasm denial and pegging.)
> 
> Most of this fic was betaed by Luzula. Any and all remaining mistakes are mine.

**Nostalgia's a bitch.**

Even after surviving working with Fraser and then impersonating one of the biggest and baddest captains in _La Cosa Nostra_ , holding one's head high is hard after seeing another marriage go down the drain.

Sitting at the foot of his bed, Ray Vecchio stares at his luggage, not really seeing it. He knows there are tailored suits in the larger case that cost almost as much as a small car. His silk shirts and ties are so classy-looking that they would make his dead father's head spin. All of his custom-made shoes are made from leather so soft that wearing them is like walking on pillows. Not that he ever had to pound much pavement back when he was Armando.

Still, now that he is back to being himself, none of that fills up the gnawing darkness inside him.

Missing and then--after getting shot _again_ \--not missing all those times fighting the good fight next to Fraser only adds to that feeling of disconnect from everyone including Ma. There's not much he wants to talk about during dinner. Or, at least, nothing that won't turn everyone's stomach including his own. A lot of the moments that made up his undercover gig are stories that are better left unsaid. Life is cheap in Vegas once you scratch past the glitzy surface.

All he knows is that Frannie's acting strange, Fraser's gone and the only thing he wants to do is wash the past three years off him.

Ray closes his eyes and leans back, letting gravity drop his soul-tired body onto his bed. One image after the next flips in his mind: putting on Armando's mustache every morning; taking it off for the last time once Benny and that clown Kowalski showed up; following the two of them in the dark, Thatcher right behind him . . .

There's a whisper of a memory floating somewhere inside his head. It's Fraser popping into his hospital room, all pale-faced and distracted. The very next thing he remembers is looking at Frannie. At the time, he thought that the only reason why anyone would look so teary-eyed is if someone had died.

*****

Meeting and wooing Stella Kowalski--and how's that for ironic?--is a vacation from the horrors of Vegas. Her tough-but-refined personality comes from an honest place and that makes all the difference in the world. At first.

They fall into an easy-going, if syrupy, relationship that makes him think of those romances Frannie buys by the dozen. Somehow, they end up in Florida pretending they know how to run a bowling alley. At the time, Stella's go-getting attitude is vaguely reminiscent of someone else, but it takes him a while to figure out _whom_.

One week after settling in Orlando, Fl and halfway through a late-night, Mojitos-soaked conversation, Stella confesses wanting to be his, to be Mrs. Raimundo Vecchio. Touched by her honesty, Ray proposes. "It'll be nice to have a Mrs. Vecchio to come home to," he whispers in her ear in between kisses.

Three months later, they're almost $10,000 in the red and Stella's making noises about selling and trying something else. Meanwhile, Ray can't stand looking at the books, working long hours and trying to figure out how to keep _Vecchio's Bowl-a-rama_ afloat til the end of the month. And yet, no one is more surprised than him after he drops an "I want a divorce" on a Tuesday morning during breakfast. Stella doesn't fight. It's big enough of a hint that she's ready to throw in the towel as well. The divorce comes through really quick.

He asks Stella to one last dinner the night before he's due to leave Florida. Taking her to bed a few hours later, Ray tries to give her the best last memory of him. He slides into her, drinking in each one of her moans, almost willing her to hold him hard enough so that he will still feel her sharp nails on his back while boarding the plane back to Illinois.

The morning after, they kiss in silence when the taxi shows up to pick up Ray. Stella's eyes are a bit shiny, but Ray chooses not to comment on them. His eyes feel shiny too.

Chicago takes him back with fewer questions than he'd anticipated. He tries to ignore his disappointment in that.

 

**See-saw**

Summer is nearly over and Ray's kept himself busy. Regardless of how nice it might sound, retirement is a yoke made of boredom and _remember when's_. He's too young to spend the rest of his days watching TV and too damaged to be allowed back in the force.

What little money he gets after leaving Florida goes right out of his bank account when he decides to open his own P.I. business. Frannie appoints herself as his 'girl Wednesday' and helps him set up an office.

"Maybe I can become one too, you know," she says after connecting one of the landlines to the fax machine.

Ray looks at her. Much as he'd want to avoid it, he makes a face. "I thought you were ready to be Cagney to Elaine's Lacey."

Frannie shakes her head, arms crossed and tired face. "I--I don't think I'm cut out for that. Too many creeps."

He closes his eyes and thinks back to some of his most horrible cases back at the 2-7. Her hint is crystal clear and yet, this is not the time to sugarcoat anything. "So what do you think you're going to be doing as a private dick? It's nothing but chasing deadbeats, people who cheat their spouses, paranoid people...and those are the nice ones."

She puts her hands on her hips and gives him a good old Ma Vecchio glare. "Listen, I'm not some shrinking daisy. All I want is the chance to do something while helping people. You don't know anyone who is faster thinking on their feet, bro, and I can create a disguise like that," she says snapping her fingers. "Besides, it's not as if you'd be paying me a huge salary if I continue being your 'gal Wednesday'."

Making a show of 'thinking about it', Ray does a quick nod before extending his right hand. "How about a trial period, Frannie? If you manage to stick around by the end of, say, three months from now, we can look into you getting your P.I. license and whatnot."

"Deal," she says shaking his hand. Her smile is contagious.

 

**Surprise, Surprise**

Business is steady enough for him not to wonder about Fraser. According to what Frannie told him (who heard it from Elaine from something Welsh told her), Fraser and Kowalski are still somewhere up in Freezerland.

So the last thing he's expecting that Sunday afternoon is seeing Fraser, dressed in a plaid shirt, jeans and the Stetson, standing in the lobby where Vecchio Investigations is located. He does a double take.

Their hug is genuine, if a little awkward. By Ray's calculations, it's been almost a year since they last saw each other.

It takes a while to catch up, long enough at least for it to be night time when they step out of the building.

"You need a ride home or are you going to walk a hundred blocks to the Consulate?" Ray asks as they walk towards the parking lot. "I've got to warn you though. My car might truly be the _last_ Riviera in all of Illinois so I might be hoping that you decline my offer."

"Ah, yes, well," is all Fraser says before running a thumb across an eyebrow. "I'd be grateful if you could drop me off at Ray's."

"Hold on, you're staying at _Kowalski's_?" he asks while unlocking the doors. He starts up the car, half-remembering something Welsh told him about Fraser's first day back after his vacation. "Oh, that's right. Your apartment over at Racine burned down."

Fraser nods before sitting down on the passenger seat. He then gives him Kowalski's address before he starts to talk about looking for the frozen hand of some guy.

The more Fraser talks, the more Ray gets this feeling that there's something he's missing. Still, he's in high spirits about seeing Fraser--who looks extremely happy himself--and there's also Sunday dinner to look forward to.

They say good-bye after exchanging phone numbers with promises to hang out soon. Ray drives back to his house and has two plates of his Ma's lasagna before calling it a day.

*****

Time keeps flying by. Ray follows leads; Frannie shows a knack for playing decoy and in between work, Ray and Fraser have a couple of lunches during the week.

A few weeks in, Ray is looking over the invoice for the Tracci surveillance when the phone rings. Frannie's at the bank and he's a little tired of doing paperwork, so rather than letting it go to voicemail, he answers.

"Good morning, Vecchio Investigations. Ray speaking."

There's a lot of background noise and yet all that the caller says is "Um."

Oh, how great. A non-talker. "You'll have to speak up. Is there anything I can help you with?"

A cough. "Hey, it's Ray, um, Kowalski. Is Fraser there?"

Ray holds the phone receiver away from him and looks at it for a few seconds before putting it back against his ear. "Oh, it's _you_. Something wrong?"

Somehow, he manages to keep his voice on the far side of annoyed. Phones keep ringing wherever it is that Kowalski is at. He hears someone say _Major Crimes_ and that's when he realizes that Kowalski's calling from the 2-7. That hurts enough for Ray to start getting pissed off.

"I wanted to tell Frase something about defrosting the chicken instead of the salmon. Never mind, I'll try to reach him at the Consulate," Kowalski says before hanging up.

Apparently, Fraser and Kowalski are still working at the 2-7 _and_ living together. The fact that it takes Ray a long while to work out what that means is, frankly, embarrassing.

*****

The next day, Ray drives over to the Consulate. He's got a case that might take him to Canada and he wants some info about London, Ontario. He's thinking of maybe making a couple of cracks at Fraser for being a "good wife" when that déjà-vu about not having all the pieces returns full force. It's a miracle he doesn't crash, he's so distracted.

The first person he sees is none other than Dragon Lady herself.

"Ah, good afternoon, Detect--I'm sorry, I forgot that you retired. Mr. Vecchio," she says with no hint of meanness in her voice.

He cocks his head. Time has been very, very kind to Thatcher. She's let her hair grow long again, and though she's standing rod-straight in a dark red suit, she's somewhat mellower. Ray holds her right hand with his.

"Back to the civilian life? Yes. But I'm still running after crooks." He lets go of her hand with surprising disappointment before searching for and producing one of his cards. "Here. I might give you a good price for old time's sake."

"In that case, you can call me Meg," she says in a calm yet authoritative tone of voice. Her smile is warm. A shiver runs through Ray.

For the first time ever, Ray really wants to know what happened in the time between that dark hallway over a year ago and this moment here in the Consulate's foyer. He's always thought she was a good-looking, if unfriendly, woman. That he didn't mention this to Fraser when they worked together was a consideration to whatever it was that happened back when they tried to disarm the Bolt brothers' train.

It is at this moment, of course, that Fraser chooses to pop out of his newer, bigger office. "Ah, Ray, we're doing lunch then?"

"Mr. Vecchio." Thatcher-- _Meg_ \--gives him a brief nod before walking away.

Ray knows that Fraser is talking, but later on, he won't remember anything Fraser said. At this very moment, he focuses all of his attention on the way Meg's suit enhances her curves. The staccato of her black patent leather heels on the wood floor give him some kind of unknown thrill. Hours from now, when he's in bed, he will think of Meg wearing nothing but those shoes. He will stroke himself while imagining touching her everywhere.

 

**Interlude 1 (Rendezvous)**

It takes Ray five days, six hours, forty-three minutes and ten seconds to ask Meg out.

Not that he's keeping count.

After a bizarre missing persons' case--in which the client was the missing person herself--and talking to the heartbroken parents of a runaway, Ray is finally ready to see if Meg would like to have coffee with him. His eyebrows jump up when she tells him yes.

Now that they're sitting across from each other in a café located a few blocks from the Consulate, Ray makes small talk about the difference between a regular espresso and a Vecchio one.

Eventually, the conversation segues into what they did after that whole Muldoon business.

"So I find myself coughing up the literal golden bullet. I tell myself "Ray, you deserve to relax. Go to Florida, put sunscreen on your bald spot and dip your toes in the sand." "

Eyes full of questions, Meg leans her head to the side. "And yet you returned."

He smirks. Hopefully things will get to the point where they'll talk about past loves. Today's not the day for that, so he keeps things light. "Turns out there's only so much surf a native Chicagoan can withstand. Anyway, last I heard you were going to move to another department? Fraser mentioned something like that."

Meg's face grows serious. "I was offered a position in the intelligence field. Another time it would have been a great promotion."

"And yet here you are," Ray quips.

"My late father was in CIS," Meg says as she folds a paper napkin. "I saw what that kind of life does to a person no matter how good or noble they are. Though tempting, there are other venues toward achieving goals that will still allow me to serve the RCMP without having to lose my soul."

Mostly on impulse, Ray puts his hand on top of one of Meg's and squeezes. He feels her relax. "I've got an idea of what you mean."

Her smile is quick but not bitter.

Ray looks into her brown eyes. His heart leaps.

 

**Flipside**

**(Today)**

Ray would never have thought he'd end up in this position. Sweaty palms, mouth so dry he couldn't drink an espresso and heart beating so hard he thinks it's going to burst out of his chest at any moment. The truth is that he's sat through this kind of awkward announcement before and he's still pretty embarrassed at his reaction . . .

 

**(Then)**

Four months after Fraser and Kowalski, come back to Chicago, Fraser makes it clear that it is "of the utmost importance" to get something across to Ray. So they meet at Vecchio's office to talk. The strange thing is not that Fraser is the one doing most of the talking but that he's using all the triple-syllable words he knows and then some.

 

**(Today)**

The diner on 37th is almost empty due to the rainy weather. Fraser takes a sip of his coffee and straightens the utensils. "And so, Ray, you wanted to talk to me about?"

Ray scratches the fuzz on top of his head as he sends a quick prayer heavenwards. He clears his throat, which makes Fraser sit up and, in turn, erases all of last night's rehearsed speeches from Ray's mind.

"I don't know if you've noticed that I might've been dropping by the Consulate lately. More than usual, I mean. Um, it--it's not that I've not wanted to have lunch with you, Fraser. But, um, you see I--I . . ."

Fraser keeps staring at him almost without blinking.

 

**(Then)**

"So, Fraser, what's this deep, dark secret that you're taking forever to reveal?" Ray's stomach is twisting every which way because Fraser only slows down while telling him some story about a bear, a pair of snowshoes and a lake of fire. It gets the wheels in Ray's head going into overdrive. Fraser only stalls when there's bad news. Illness? Is Fraser returning to Canada never to return? Have the Canadian courts decided to set Muldoon free? Was it--?

"It's not . . . it's not _her_ , right?" Ray swallows the fear down because they barely made it past her drive-by once. There's no way they'll be _that_ lucky this time around.

 

**(Today)**

Ray's holding onto the small hope that no matter how strange things might get, Fraser will keep his cool. After all, Fraser is an understanding sort of fellow, always kind to the old, the homeless and the crazy.

Ray looks back at Fraser and takes a deep breath. "I don't know how else to tell you so, here we go: I'm dating Meg."

Fraser's stare turns into a hard squint.

 

**(Then)**

Fraser stops mid-babble and blinks a couple of times. "Ah," he says after pulling on an ear. "No. Thankfully, Victoria remains as far away from me and Chicago and Canada as anyone can tell. For all we know she might be in Belize or somewhere equally as warm."

"Good. Good," Ray says while nodding. "So?"

"Ah, as you are well aware, Ray, Ray Kowalski and I became partners upon your assignment with the FBI."

Ray frowns. "Uh-huh. Tell me something I don't know. But what--?"

"And I know that both Ray and you had a rather volatile introduction," Fraser gives him a hard look. "There might have been fisticuffs."

"I could've taken on that scrawny Polack if Frannie had not separated us."

"Ray." Fraser's disapproving voice kills most of Ray's snark. If there's a warning somewhere in that tone, Ray chooses to ignore it.

"Yeah, yeah, Benny. So, what are you trying to tell me?"

 

**(Today)**

"Dating?"

Wow, Ray didn't know Fraser's voice could get that high. He shrugs.

"As in seeing each other in social settings with the intention of pursue a romantic relationship?" The frown Fraser's giving him is equal parts confused and irritation. Ray chooses not to feel insulted by it.

"You don't have to make it sound so clinical, Fraser. But, yes, Meg and I are what the gossip columns would call 'an item'." There, he's said it.

 

**(Then)**

"You and _him_?" Ray waves his hands. "This is about the salmon thing, right?"

"Ray?"

"Just how hard have you hit your head lately?"

"Ray!"

"Wait a moment, could I still be feeling the side effects from pain medication I took over a year ago? Because I think I might still be hallucinating."

"There's no need to be insulting, Ray." Fraser's voice is colder than an iceberg. "Regardless of how different my relationship with Ray Kowalski might be, it is one that's been built on mutual respect and love. Pardon me for wanting to share some of my happiness with you."

Ray feels like he's been roughened up by Zuko's thugs. "I just never thought--I mean, what about Victoria? You told me that you were in love with her, too. . ."

"I also thought it might have been an inner-ear imbalance, Ray." Fraser's shoulders drop. "Ray told me that you wouldn't like knowing about us. I told him that you would be able to look past whatever issues you might have--"

Ray starts to count things off his fingers. "Former cop. Italian-American. Married and divorced. Twice." He holds a hand up as soon as he sees Fraser about to say something. "I think that you could've chosen a better, smoother way of springing this thing with the Po--with Kowalski. That's all." It is then when he notices Fraser's hands, curled up into tight fists that might be itching to hit something.

 

**(Today)**

Fraser's silence is getting to him whether he wants to admit it or not. "So?"

"Um? What's that, Ray?"

"Comments, questions? Anything?" He resists the urge to roll his eyes when Fraser stares off into space like he's trying to think of something to say. How could he had forgotten that Fraser was the most annoying man in the universe?

 

**(Then)**

It feels like a lifetime of silence even though it's only been minutes. Though dialed down, Fraser is still giving him the kind of stare that screams 'back the fuck up _now_ '. Ray uses all of that quiet to get his own shit together. Because other than it not being his scene at all, what does it matter that Fraser and Kowalski are together in the Biblical sense?

"Listen," he says in a calm tone of voice, "I can't say I get it. As a matter of fact, I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that by becoming, um, _partners_ with Kowalski, you have used up your weirdness quota for the next five years as far as I'm concerned."

Fraser crosses his arms. His gaze is a wary one. "Go on."

"And I hope you don't expect me and Kowalski to become buddies, share office gossip or, um, braid each other's hair. . ." He's relieved when Fraser cracks a small grin. "What I _can_ tell you is that I know he--he's good for you, Benny. And no matter what crap anyone says, including me by the way, I'm glad you're happy."

 

**(Today)**

"It's quite serious, isn't it?" Fraser asks him, swiping a thumb across his eyebrow.

Ray nods. "Serious enough to talk about moving in together." Ignoring Fraser's shocked look, he goes for the offensive. "What do you care? You're shacking up with some skinny punk, a deaf half-wolf, a turtle and, every other weekend, Ante."

"Very true. I just never thought--I mean, there was no indication . . ."

"I don’t think either one of us would have appreciated the other back when I was back at the 2-7 and you were making googly eyes at her." He raises an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah, I know all about that, Benny. I was there, remember?"

"Yes, well, ah. My prior, ah, _entanglement_ with the Inspector is something that will remain in the past. I hope you understand that, Ray."

"I do, Benny, I do. Besides, Kowalski would _kill_ you if you stepped out on him." He reaches across the small table and claps Fraser's left shoulder.

"That he would, Ray," Fraser deadpans in his best "who me?" tone of voice.

Once Ray has his giggling under control, he wipes his eyes and asks for their check. "Listen, I'm an ex-cop who's done the wedding bells waltz twice already. She's a tough lady like out of a classic movie. Ma's been talking my ear off about teaching her the secret recipes from Sicily and Frannie's giving her the scoop on where to get the finest shoes at the best prices. Life is good, you know?"

Fraser nods before picking up the check.

 

**Interlude 2 (Welcome Home)**

"Meg?" Ray asks after closing the front door behind him.

"In here," she answers from their bedroom.

He takes off his coat and walks across the living room. "Oh, hell," he says after looking at the one . . . two . . . five . . . nine boxes of shoes on the floor. He shakes his head, wishing Frannie and Meg still hated each other.

"Close your mouth, Ray," Meg says after standing on her well-manicured toes and giving him a kiss with lots of zing. "They were 50% off. I," she says as she tugs on his tie and leads him to the bathroom, "can out shop your sister."

Ray smiles while Meg undoes his tie and then his belt.

"Draw us a bath," she says, unbuttoning his shirt and pants. Her movements are delicate but confident.

He waits until he can feel his naked torso against her clothed body. "Maybe we should've stayed in the bedroom," he says, twisting his head and placing a kiss behind her ears, getting lost in that faint scent that is all Meg Thatcher, passion and want and love and tender cruelty that drives Ray crazy. He yelps after she twists one his nipples.

"Perhaps you've forgotten your place," she purrs. "Don't worry though. I've got plans for you."

She lets him go and heads out of the bathroom but not before smacking him hard on his ass.

Ray Vecchio is a lucky man.

 

**Breathe**

Ray Vecchio loves cock. Well, not in the _same_ way Fraser likes Kowalski's. Looking at naked men does zip for him. The mere idea of kissing another guy--let alone play with a cock not his own--makes him grimace.

And yet, few things get him hard in less time that it takes to blink than thinking of, seeing, touching or getting fucked by _Meg's_ cock.

But first things first.

*****

He's never considered himself to be an adventurous guy in bed. Romantic, maybe. Playful, a little bit. Still, if there's something that all of the women he's gone to bed with share is that he loves obeying them. It was always a thrill to see Irene, Angie, St. Laurent and Stella ordering him to fuck them harder or faster or use his tongue on them in the past. Not that it was something anyone ever brought up. That's the way things have been for Ray from way back when he first fell for Irene Zuko.

The few women he beds in Vegas are all about pleasing him. Which, yeah, it's nice because there's no way he won't come. But, at the same time, they're there for Armando and whoever Langoustine used to be, he was no bottom.

Meg is different because she likes to see him push himself for the sole purpose of pleasuring her. His mouth, tongue, fingers and cock are for her only. There's a kind of freedom in not thinking, in yielding to whatever she wants.

The first couple of times they roll around in bed--with her ending on top, of course--she makes him wait.

"You won't come until I decide you can," Meg says as she slides her hands all over his chest, taking some time to tease his nipples by pinching them a few times. "There's always your safeword, of course. But I want to see what you're capable of."

Ray is sweating and enjoying the tug and release. His wrists are bound with some Velcro straps that Meg hid under her bed (which has got to be one of the most innocent-looking kinky things he's ever come across in his life.) He's got his safeword tucked in a corner somewhere in his mind. There's no way he can forget "table". And yet, Meg's kind of push-pull is bringing him to the brink time and time again.

Meg knows what she's doing as she straddles his hips and kisses him hard enough to almost, but not quite, draw blood. Of course, that only makes him grow harder and start begging her to use him however she wants, as long as he gets some kind of release.

"Oh, but you can be good for me, right? You can wait until I give you permission, isn't that so, Ray?" Meg smiles before sitting up and grazing her nails from the back of his balls to the underside of his cockhead.

He opens his eyes (too much) and closes them again ( _way_ too much), all the while biting his lips and straddling that edge between coming and not coming. Meg's fingers glide all over the head of his cock before circling it. Every loop brings him closer to bursting and to disobeying her and he feels himself shaking with the strain to be as good as he can be.

"Hold on, Ray. For me," Meg says before sliding her hot and flexible tongue all the way down his shaft and back up a few times.

"Please," he rasps as Meg continues licking him.

She stops and sits back. "I like seeing you like this. On edge. I think I'll let you taste me," she says before moving up his body until his face is between her legs. "Go on."

Eyes closed, Ray licks between Meg's folds. Her clit is hard and he pays tribute to it by licking it until he feels Meg tremble as she comes.

Looking sated, Meg undoes his restrains. "Maybe next time I'll bring out my real cuffs," she says before curling up against him and falling asleep.

He is harder than he's ever been in his life and yet, at the same time, he feels calm. Because he's been good for Meg, because he's _hers_. His own sleep is a dreamless one for the first time in years. Ray is extremely grateful for that.

*****

The restraints help, of course, but more than that is the underlying feeling that wherever it is that Meg will push him to, he will like it there.

It's something of a challenge to remember that when he's on his side with one leg up, his hands holding onto one of the pillows, in an effort to open up for Meg. Ray is excited and scared and horny and _so very ready_ for this moment.

They've talked about it, watched videos and even had trial runs during which Meg rubs the head of her cock against his lubed hole. She's inserted two, three slick fingers in him while giving him a blowjob. The sensation is familiar and still Ray has never experienced feeling so vulnerable in his whole life.

His heart becomes Thor's hammer when he feels Meg withdraw her fingers. He sighs when she scoots closer to him.

"The only thing in your mind should be letting me in, Ray. I want to be inside you," she half-moans as she snakes a hand to his hard cock and jacks him off for a couple of minutes.

They're both sweaty and panting. "I'm ready," he whispers, shuddering as she lets go of his cock and bites his shoulder.

"Breathe, Ray, and let me in."

One moment he's at the very top of a rollercoaster ( _Meg's cock inching its way inside_ ) and the next, he's freefalling ( _so big_ ) into a world full of pleasure. Because that fullness inside of him is Meg and some well-hidden ache deep inside of him becomes undone.

"Shh," she murmurs as she pulls her cock back out and then in and again and again. Each one of her hip thrusts a wicked one as her cock presses on his prostate. He's seeing stars and making noises he didn't know he was capable of making.

Ray's eyes water and, although his own cock has grown soft, it's not pain. Meg's teeth clamp down on his shoulder once more. Ray rides the pleasure ( _her cock pounding him without mercy_ ) and pain ( _biting so hard_ ) waves, as they become one infinite loop of more and better and yes.

Everything and everyone fades away until it's just Meg fucking him, breaking him open and remaking him anew.


End file.
